


Get Under Me

by slyyywriting



Series: Get Under Me [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Drinking, F/M, Handjob (if you squint), Modern AU, Smut, Unprotected Sex, Vaginal Penetration, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:40:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27616378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyyywriting/pseuds/slyyywriting
Summary: Steve helps you get over someone by getting you under him.
Relationships: Bucky Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Get Under Me [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2019121
Comments: 2
Kudos: 57





	Get Under Me

**Author's Note:**

> When I put angst as a warning, I mean it! Like this goes really angsty.

This was a nightmare. How the fuck did you manage to entangle yourself in such a shitty affair. For someone who considered herself an asshole and a serial naye-sayer, you had a hard time saying _no_ to the single most important event that you should have avoided attending.

“Congratulations!”

That fucking word. It echoed and echoed all throughout the stupid venue. Glasses were clinking and people were cheering for the couple standing under an arch made of lavenders. They looked picture perfect. Of course people were going to be happy for them.

You should be, too. Except you were fucking miserable. You should be the one kissing him under that stupid lavender arch and not miss giggles over there. You roll your eyes at how happy they looked, soaking in all the attention from friends trying to document the moment with their phones. You down your fourth glass of champagne. Maybe fifth. You don’t know, you never intended to count from the moment you parked your car earlier.

“Looks like someone is enjoying the festivities.” A familiar voice, deep and alluring, greets from beside you. You turn and find a beaming blond holding a glass of scotch in his hand.

“Well, y’know. Happy days ahead.” You chirp and sober up for all eight seconds before signaling the bartender to fill your flute.

The blond chuckles and turns so his back leans against the bar. His blue eyes drifts over to his best friend and his new fiancé. He smiles and raises his glass when the man finds him looking. You on the other hand shift your weight from one foot to another, impatient for lunch to be served so you can go home and get real drunk.

“You’re such a shitty guest.” The blond declares and takes another sip of the dark liquor. You huff and scoff at the comment.

“I am not! I’m—I’m jovial. Just like everyone here.” You defend yourself. Poorly, you know but it’s all your inebriated brain can come up at the moment.

“Yeah, no, not really. Unlike everyone here, you’re in love with Bucky.” He shifts and boops the tip of your nose with his index finger. You flinch and lean away from his finger but the man was massive and his arm span wide so the booping is unavoidable. You change tactics and bite on the offending finger making him retract it all on his own.

He cradles his hand near his chest, grinning like a school boy. You grin too as you crane your neck up at him before the both of you break out into laughter simultaneously. You laugh for a bit, attracting the attention of by-standers before settling into soft giggles.

“What the fuck am I doing here, Steve?” you sigh and slump on the bar, turning your back on the ongoing merriment. You roll two fingers on the side of your forehead before blowing out a long breath.

“You’re drinking heavily.” He says as he pats you gently on the back. You lean your head on one hand and look up at him. He’s still beaming, the opposite of how you feel and look, the asshole. “And getting free lunch!”

He clinks his glass to your own and downs the rest of the contents.

“C’mon, we have to congratulate the happy couple.” He pries the champagne flute from your hand and grabs your arm, effectively pulling you out of your seat. You whine and drag your feet while the both of you make way through the crowd of attendees. He clicks his tongue when he sees you sulking and whispers in your ear to fix your face for the people. It’s a celebration, he says and goes back to greeting others.

You fake a smile and nod when he introduces you to some of them, only faltering when he shoves you and you’re face to face with the recurring nightmare you’ve been having.

“Here are my best friends! Where you been?” the man of your dreams greets Steve with a bear hug.

“Answering all the questions your nosy relatives had, jerk.” The thorn on your side returns the hug all too warmly. “Also, snatched this one away from the bar before she causes a drought.”

Bucky, warm, big, buff and sweet smelling Bucky, shifts his attention from his best man to you, his former best girl. Enveloping you into a hug so good that it tugs on the remaining strings keeping your heart attached to your chest. Each time he rocks you side to side while in the safety of his embrace feels like a knife to your chest, nipping off those strings.

You don’t mean to but a surge of memories in the form of his arms around you flash through your mind. Ones of you and him hugging in the middle of a crowded train from Brooklyn to Manhattan, ignoring the disapproval of cynical New Yorkers with the display of affection; you and him on a couch in his apartment snuggled together during too cold winters, sharing the same blanket and the same warmth; you and him at three in the morning tangled and linked in your bed, sharing your hopes and dreams in the darkness of the night, naked in thought and in form, no boundaries, no secrets, just each other.

“Oh, my god! It’s great to finally meet you!” a shrill voice pulls you out of your unwanted nostalgia. “I’m Dot! Bucky-bear here has told me _so much_ about you.”

_Did Bucky-bear tell you he used to fuck my brains out then hold me close to his chest afterwards that it felt like we were one whole person? Or that he’d whisper sweet nothings to my ear while he was balls deep inside me?_

Could you ask her that? Would that be appropriate? The answer comes in the form of Steve’s elbow nudging you. You glare at him then shift to your winning smile when you face the woman who Bucky chose to be with.

“Don’t believe any of it, except for the parts that I’m a massive bitch.” You tell her and she grabs both of your hands, surprising you. Steve is about to have an aneurism from holding in laughter while Bucky is just looking on proudly.

“Nonsense! You’re a strong woman amidst all these brutes. That doesn’t make you a bitch.” She insists, staring straight into your eyes. This feels too uncomfortable. Like she’s trying to find out your secrets.

“Yes, it does.” You and Steve answer in unison as you pull your hands away from her. You take a step back away, patience running thin.

“Aww, you guys are so cute together.” Dot giggles, the sound deeply unsettling in your ears. “They’re more kinda like a couple than best friends, right Bucky-bear?”

You flinch at her words. They sounded like a taunt and before you know it, you’re jumping towards the woman, fists balled tight. Luckily, Steve holds you back and drags you away while you fumed, neither Bucky nor Dot aware of the impending fight. He makes an excuse about not taking too much of their time away from other guests and drags you off somewhere more private.

“That fucking bitch!” you yell out as you pace back and forth under the shade of a tree Steve found. “Those were fighting words, Steve! Why did you stop me?”

“Yeahhh, not really cool for you to beat up the woman your best friend is going to marry in front of her relatives and peers. You’d be banned from further events and Bucky would be sad.” Steve taunts you with a smirk as he leans on the tree. “You don’t wanna see _our_ Bucky _sad_ , do you?”

You immediately stop your pacing and punch him on the chest. He howls and clutches the area you hit.

“Fuck you, Rogers!” you flip him off as you walk away.

“Where the hell are you goin’?” he calls out after you, watching with a lopsided grin as your flowery dress flits angrily about in the wind. He just shakes his head when you don’t answer.

He knew this day was going to be hard for you and as your _other_ best friend he was supposed to be supportive of whatever hurt feelings you had. But Steve knew the only way to help you get over Bucky was to allow you to lash out until you finally tire yourself out and accept the fact that you weren’t going to be the one who spends a lifetime with the guy.

You’re seeking refuge in dark corners lit up only by neon lights. It’s not healthy. You haven’t seen the sun in weeks since the engagement party, except maybe that short amount of time from your front door to the cab in the mornings when you go to work. You’re a house plant about to lose all of its leaves but you didn’t care. You just wanted to drown in work and in liquor, both easily manageable and accessible. You’re just praying your liver holds up.

A warm arm snakes onto your middle just as your ears start buzzing from drinking. You smirk, maybe a good angry fucking is all you need to flush Bucky out of your system. The hand tightens its hold on you as you feel the hot breath of the owner on the back of your neck. They’re starting to leave soft, feather light kisses up until under your ear before they speak—

“Hey there, stranger.”

The voice is too familiar, breaking you out of your momentary horniness. You shift and see the man’s face.

“Oh, fuck you!” you pry his face away from your neck but his hold on you remains.

“What? Did I just turn you on?” Steve laughs and bites your earlobe. He smelled like whiskey, cigarette smoke and that damned signature Gucci perfume. “I thought you were staying away from men forever? Broken heart and all that.”

“Will you get off?” you look back at him and hiss. You were in no mood to play with him.

“Sure, baby. I’ll get off as many times as you want me to.” He whispers into your ear and you swear every hair on your body stands straight. This wasn’t right. Steve was only playing and your half-drunk brain was actually dumb enough to be aroused. You could feel a wetness forming in your panties already.

You say his name, low, almost pleading and he finally lets you go. The hotness of his chest on your exposed back is now replaced with the chill of air conditioning and a small part of you kinda wishes he didn’t detach himself.

“What are you doing here? It’s a Wednesday.” You signal the bartender for shots, crossing your legs to keep the sensation between them in check. But the moment you take a good look at Steve, more heat pulses through you.

“Celebrating with the team.” He points to some people you know he works with at a far off VIP booth. “Just sold an operating system for unmanned war tanks for a couple hundred million. No big deal.”

Steve shrugs smugly while you yell out in happiness and jump into his arms, congratulating him. You know how much of a big deal this was despite his nonchalance.

“We should call Bucky to celebrate—“ you tell him and pull out your phone but he grabs it.

“Nah. He’s busy in his little bubble. Let’s celebrate by ourselves.” He dangles the phone over your head. “How about we get outta here, grab some take out and head back to my place?”

“What about drinks?”

“I’ll buy you all the drinks your little arms can carry out of a bodega.”

You tell him it’s a deal and ditch the pub. It didn’t feel weird just being with him. Being without Bucky. It had been just you and Steve for a while now after Bucky started dating Dot out of nowhere then deciding to move from Brooklyn to Manhattan permanently. Leaving you confused by the abrupt change of scenery when not even less than a month prior to that, both of you were kissing in a corner laundry mat while waiting for your clothes to dry.

You must have been too lost in thought because Steve’s pulling your chin with his thumb and finger while the both of you walk back to his house. You tell him you’re okay and tuck yourself into his side.

“Maybe I can offer some help?” Steve interrupts your late dinner back at his place, mouth filled with spare ribs. “It’s my duty as your _other_ best friend.”

“What now?” you roll your eyes at him. You hated the mischief that was forming on his face. “And for the record, you are not my _other best friend_. You’re that free friend I got from being best friends with Bucky.”

Steve sticks his tongue out and you retaliate in kind before bursting into fits of laughter. He concedes with nod. You guys weren’t really best friends. Bucky was the one who insisted on sharing the title among the three of you as to avoid hurt feelings. Funny that because now all feelings have been tossed out the window, trampled on then shoved back inside you.

“Whatever! What I’m saying is, I would like to offer my help in Operation: Get Over Bucky.” He proposes followed by another mouthful of food. Sauce was leaking out the side of his mouth.

“Mmkay, what do you suggest?” you wipe his mouth with a paper towel, waiting for his answer.

“Sleep with me.” Steve tells you direct and concise. No hint of sarcasm or playfulness in his voice. You blink once. Twice. A smile forms on his face, Cheshire-like. “Get over Bucky… By _getting under_ Stevie.”

You chortle, followed by a full bellied laugh. You only stop laughing when you see Steve still smiling but staying uncharacteristically quiet. You put down your takeout on the coffee table and untuck your legs from beneath you. You reach for his forehead and place a palm there.

“You don’t feel feverish. Are you feeling alright?” more teasing, it always came easy with Steve. He swipes your hand away and huffs. “I know I’m in a dry spell but I don’t want your pity communal dick, Steven.”

“It’s not—it’s not out of pity! Also, calling my penis communal is a compliment. A lot of satisfied customers, some even come back for seconds and thirds.” He’s picking up take out containers now and bringing them to the kitchen. It’s funny how you can read his ticks like a clock. Cleaning up means he’s done with the conversation because you’ve just rejected him and he doesn’t want hurt feelings. The soft, soft man.

You perch your chin on the back of the couch while you take in the view of Steve in the kitchen. Those gray sweats he’s in are making his backside look juicy as fuck. Bucky had mad yeeks but Steve? Steve had yeeks good enough to survive on for months in a deserted island. You involuntarily bite your lip at the thought of those in your palms as you unashamedly gawk at him. The sound of clashing plastic containers snap you out of it.

You call out his name but he doesn’t acknowledge you. You try again but still the same result.

“Hey, sulky boy. Look, sleeping with a friend was what got me into this whole mess and you’re telling me you want to pile on it by sleeping with you? Huh?” that makes him turn around, finally. “What’s in it for you?”

He walks back into the living area and crouches behind the couch so he was at your eye level.

“You know I’m messy as hell too, right?” he perches his chin and smiles. “It’s my moral obligation to help a fellow mess to clean themselves up.”

“Oh, so you got morals now?”

“On Sundays, yes. I’m a church boy.”

“Today’s Wednesday, though.”

“Sometimes on Wednesdays, too.”

You crack a smile at that. He was always so charming, one of his best traits. He nudges your nose with his own. His way of pushing the encouragement further. Hard to resist.

“Fine! Fine, fine fine.” You pull back and sit straight. Any more eye contact and your nether areas might be flooded. You’re too fucked in the head to even consider the consequences now. Anything to keep the harrowing pain in your chest away. “But as soon as you can’t try and make me cum, deal’s off.”

“I can make it happen, fuck _tryin’_.” He answers smugly, proud of himself. He was going to do right by you, better than Bucky ever did.

—

The arrangement had done wonderfully. You’re back into your old step in a little over seven weeks. Well, sometimes your steps were a bit wonky and you end up walking funny after Steve spends a whole night at your house. Not that you’re complaining.

The dullness in your skin has been replaced once more with color. Your hair might even be shinier. You were less grumpy at work, too. Mostly because waking up to Steve in his boxers in your kitchen was always a great way to start your day.

“What do you want for breakfast?” he asks you as he scrolls through his morning playlist.

You walk up behind him and wind your arms around his torso, kissing a path down his spine. He chuckles and reaches a hand to squeeze your bare ass under his shirt you’ve started to claim your own.

“How about…” you reach down his pelvis and slip your hand inside his boxers, feeling him up with light strokes. “…sausage?”

“That’s my cock, doll.” He teases but starts to grind himself on your palm, nevertheless. “It’s hardly breakfast and I know how you get when you’re hangry.”

“Mmm. But you also know how I get when I’m horny and you’re not around to help me out.” you continue your ministrations on his already erect cock while leaving wet, sloppy kisses on his back.

He suddenly breaks your hold on him, turns around and lifts you on the counter. He nudges your knees open, your ass sitting on the cold marble top. An irony on the heat blooming between your legs.

His shirt is pulled off of you and discarded on the floor. He gives you an open mouth kiss, wet and hungry as if you just hadn’t shared a bed hours before this. A warm hand holds you by the neck as he devours you with his tongue while the other runs a gentle finger over your breasts, pinching at the sensitive nipples now at attention. He smiles into the kiss when you moan into his mouth and he continues to go down, down, down, south past the mound and onto that special bud he loves to lick. But for now, his thumb rubs your clit, making you lift your pelvis into it.

“Always so sensitive, huh baby.” He breaks the kiss only to attach his lips onto that perfect spot on your neck. Two of his fingers now running up and down your slit, catching and spreading the wetness there. “You’re so wet already.”

You hum, not really having the voice to respond to him. Despite the numerous times Steve had played with your body, fucked you, then fucked you again, his touches never failed to incite fire on your skin and a storm in your loins. Every time with him felt new, felt good, felt perfect.

He aligns himself with your core and slowly slides himself in until he bottoms out. Half your ass is dangling on the counter, supported only by the sheer will to be fucked at the moment. You hold on to Steve’s biceps as he begins to thrust in you, his large hand clipping on your hip now. Gliding purely on your slick as your eyes start to roll to the back of your head.

The hand on your neck moves higher and he positions his thumb on your bottom lip. You catch it and start sucking, quieting your moans effectively. You nails scratch Steve’s skin as he increases into an unforgiving pace, his grunts mixing in with the sound of skin slapping.

“God—you look so good like this, baby.” He grits through his teeth, seeing you done for. “You love my cock, don’t you?”

“Mnng—Yes! Yes!” you whimper, moving your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer as you start to feel yourself clench around him. “So.. close—Steve.”

“Go ahead. Cum on my cock, baby.” He encourages, he can feel your pussy squeezing him and then with a series of mewls you come undone as he continues to fuck you.

“S-Stevie…” you whimper as you start to calm down but Steve only wraps you in a dizzying kiss as his thrusts get sloppy and uneven before his warmth paints your insides.

The both of you pant in unison, wrapped in each other’s arms. You slowly untangle yourself from him and lean on your elbows on the counter. His eyes crinkle as he smiles down at you, sweat on his brow and his half hard cock still buried within you. He reaches for your face and wipes the beads of sweat off. He finally detaches as he goes limp and goes to pick his shirt off from the floor to dress you.

Another kiss, this time unhurried and playful. Cute little nips on your lips, swollen from being consumed.

“Seriously, what do you want for breakfast?”

You should have known better than to trick your heart into believing you were over Bucky. You’ve been doing so well up until the moment you heard his name while you were trying on clothes in a fitting room somewhere in Manhattan. Relapsing into old unhealthy defense mechanisms, your first thought was fuck Steve for insisting to skip work and go shopping with him.

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop, the voices were simply too loud to ignore. Just like how the pounding of your heart was now too loud to be pushed aside.

“Bitch, you really hit the jackpot with Bucky _freakin’_ Barnes! Unlimited credit and platinum memberships?” a woman crying out outside the small mirrored box you were confined in catches your attention mid zip.

“Yes, I did!” Dot’s annoying voice and laughter assaults your ears.” About damn time I snag someone like him, too. I’ve worked my whole life into being the perfect trophy wife.”

More laughter from them and more annoyance from you. You have half the mind to open the door and walk out to declare your presence. The other half dreadfully wants to stay hidden and listen more. The latter half wins and you stay put, hands on your hips and a scowl on your face.

“I deserve this.” Dot carries a pile of clothes from the cushioned seats outside the fitting rooms as her friend sits and sips on champagne. “Whoever said I couldn’t cut it as an actress clearly hasn’t seen me finesse my way into Bucky’s heart. And pockets.”

She giggles and takes the dresses into the empty room next to yours. You’re cursing under your breath as both women continue to talk about the perks of being Bucky’s girlfriend and now the near-future Mrs. Barnes. Your ears are burning from absorbing everything you hear that you miss out on the sudden quiet that takes over the room.

Two soft knocks startle you.

“Y-yeah?” you clear your throat as it began to constrict from the building anger.

“You okay in there? Need help?” Steve’s voice helps ground you and you immediately open the door. The strapless bodycon evening dress clung to the top of your breasts and accentuated all the curves you had to offer. Steve gives you a once over and licks his lips automatically.

“Definitely take this one.” He whistles and places his hands on your hips, pulling you to him.

“I, uhh—Can you zip me up? I’m not sure it fits.” You fumble over your words as you struggle to look at Dot’s friend seated behind Steve. You turn around and face the mirror on the wall allowing him to finish the task. You catch his eyes in the mirror, an all too familiar look you know well enough by now.

The woman sitting eyes the both of you not too subtly. Eyes like a hawk, scanning Steve from head to toe then assessing you next. She hides a smirk behind the champagne glass when Steve started to get more handsy.

“Stevie… why don’t you ring these up to the counter while I get out of this one?” you gather all the clothes hanging inside your fitting room and hand them all to him. A dismissal really, so you can continue to spy on Dot and her friend. “I’m going to change then meet you out front, okay?”

Steve hums and obeys happily, leaving you alone to your scheming. As soon as he was out of sight, the woman speaks to you.

“You’re so lucky your boyfriend spoils you, Miss.” She raises her flute to you and you turn around to pull the fakest politest smile you can.

“Oh, please, I don’t need him to be my boyfriend to spoil me.” You wink at her, making the woman nod to you in acknowledgment before you disappear inside the fitting room again.

You take another minute after getting dressed to compose yourself, not sure how you can keep yourself from strangling the obvious social climber outside and her vile friend. When you feel like you can manage, you exit the booth with a final nod to the champagne drinking fiend and make your way to the paying counter.

Steve deposits you under his arm as you walk up to him, asking about dinner plans for later when a commotion from the other side of the store erupts. There’s yelling and insults booming until one of the store clerks steps out from behind the counter to pacify the situation. You and Steve exchange looks. He was in for a big surprise.

“Don’t you know I’m Bucky Barnes’ fiancé?!” Dot’s screaming finally becomes clearer, making Steve turn around to witness her being hysterical. “He’s a platinum member and I want the platinum treatment!”

A flurry of attendants flit around to pacify her. The smugness in her face disappears when Steve calls out her name. She manages to transform in a manner of seconds from bridezilla to a blushing bride-to-be. She composes herself and greets the both of you cordially, eyeing the copious amount of clothes you’re purchasing.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” Steve inquires, masterfully sounding genuinely concerned.

“Y-yes! I’m great, it’s fine. They uh, refused to provide me with clothes in my size even though they have them in the back.” She quickly explains before changing the topic. “Oh, have you met my best friend, Ashley? I don’t think you guys had the chance to talk during the engagement party.”

The woman—Ashley, almost trips when she gets introduced to you and Steve—Bucky’s oldest and closest friends. You sneer at her, knowing fully well she’s tracing back to earlier when the both of them were openly discussing about Bucky and his money. Her eyes looked panic only to be saved by Steve who offers to talk to the store staff regarding their sizing problem, leaving you and Dot by yourselves.

Three minutes into small talk and you’re about ready to pull all you hair out when she reaches out for your hands and clasps them with hers.

“Look, I’m so sorry about my little outburst earlier. It’s been real hard feeling good about myself when I’m super stressed out about the wedding being so close.” She begins and you just want to scratch her eyes out. You knew the truth now and it pained you to carry such forbidden knowledge without being able to tell Bucky.

“It’s just—“Dot looks back to where Steve was charming people into accepting an apology on her behalf, “—I can’t fit into any of my old clothes now because… well, I’m pregnant.”

You gasp, pulling away your hands from her. Your lungs are burning and you feel like you’re about to drown while she just smiles at you from under her lashes.

“Bucky doesn’t know yet, so please don’t tell him. I want to be the one to break the news. Anyways, my outburst is really just my hormones going insane—“ she giggles and you just might puke. When she spots Steve coming back she pulls you into a hug and whispers in your ear, “Please don’t tell Steve, either. You know how he shares everything with Bucky. It’ll be our little secret from the boys.”

Everything passes by in a blur after that conversation. You did not know how to process any of it. All you know is that you definitely cannot win Bucky back by telling him how his almost wife is scheming, social climbing bitch now that she was carrying his child.


End file.
